


Spring Cleaning

by beastieboys



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:43:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastieboys/pseuds/beastieboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock spring cleans his Mind Palace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Cleaning

“Sherlock! What am I supposed to do with all this blood?” John Watson shouts from the kitchen. There’s no room in the fridge for the groceries. A half gallon milk jug, no, two, filled with blood, AB+, apparently, by the way it’s labeled, stand beside each other in the main shelf of the fridge. John pauses for a moment, straining his ears for a smart reply. Nothing.

“Probably sleeping,” John grumbles to himself. He’ll give Sherlock a break, he never sleeps. He throws himself on the couch, finally he gets to watch whatever he wants, not some crap telly that he’s usually dragged into. He could care less who the father is. He finds something and settles to watch it.

When it finishes, John checks his watch. He still hasn’t heard from his flat-mate and it’s 5:30 in the afternoon. The doctor decides to make the two some tea, and maybe some extra in case Mrs. Hudson comes round. He puts the water on and wonders if Sherlock would ever use blood as a sugar for his tea or coffee. John chuckles to himself. Of course he would. 

“Sherlock! Tea!” John shouts. Still no reply. Who doesn’t come round, even for tea? He sighs and trods over to the door of his flatmate. He raps on it a few times with his knuckles and waits. He cracks the door open and its dark, pitch black almost. He listens for breathing. He hears faint sounds of air moving, so good. Sherlock’s still alive. He seriously must be getting some heavy z’s, because usually the man will perk up at the sound of a door opening. John’ll leave him alone a little longer then. 

 

It’s a good few days before John decides to get him out of this funk. He opens the door and turns on the light in Sherlock’s room to find him on the bed with his eyes wide open and his hands on his temples. John steps in front of him. The eyes that hold universes see right through him. He does not blink.

John waves his hands. No eye movement whatsoever.

Then he is struck with a shameful idea. It’d be the perfect time, wouldn’t it? Watson swallows and hopes so.

He sits on Sherlock’s stiff lap. The younger man doesn’t acknowledge. Relief washes over the doctor. He leans in and searches the blank eyes for something, anything, before meeting his lips with his own set. Unbeknownst to Watson, whose eyes closed the moment he gave into his secret desire, Sherlock comes back into the real world, with one thought on his mind: John. His mouth melds lightly with his flatmate’s, and he can hear his heart thumping and feel the jolt of the realization the he is no longer out of it. John pulls away. 

“Sh-Sherlock? I’m sorry, I just- you were-”

“Spring cleaning,” Sherlock answers. “I take a few days a year to forget everything that isn't important anymore.” He’s forgotten many things over the past two days, but not the most important thought planted in his brain. John Watson had planted love in his mind, just at the perfect time. Sherlock’s got nothing else to think about, anyways.


End file.
